


Abide by the Hands of Time

by WantsUnicorns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apocalypse, Diary/Journal, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Magic, Monsters, POV Multiple, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Build, Steampunk, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantsUnicorns/pseuds/WantsUnicorns
Summary: Harry Potter has left the public eye of wizarding world many years ago, under somewhat suspicious circumstances. When Draco picks up his pocket watch from a new watchmaker in Diagon Alley, he does not expect the shop to be run by the very man who had such a profound effect on him in the past. Harry Potter’s friendly reaction to seeing Draco comes as an even bigger surprise. But did Harry Potter really abandon a successful career as an Auror to become a simple watchmaker or is everything not quite what it seems?As Draco begins to be drawn in by this new, approachable Harry Potter, his joy is overshadowed by a number of terrible omens that even he cannot explain away and when Scorpius gets hurt in an attack, there is only one man Draco can ask for help.A story of love and perception that is not always told in a straight line.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Abide by the Hands of Time

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in my head for a really long time and it's been almost six years, since I wrote anything remotely like this. So, fair warning, this is a WIP, as in, I'm not posting chapters of a finished work, I'm actively still writing this while working full-time. I don't have a reliable posting schedule for this yet.  
> Also due to time constraints this has not been beta-read yet (first time for everything).
> 
> I've wanted to write this fic for a really long time, but have been and am still really struggling with putting my work out there for everyone to see.
> 
> I will add to the tags and the rating will eventually go up, as the chapters require of me. A few pointers containing slight general spoilers can be found in the end notes.

Abide by the Hands of the Hour

Cogs, springs and wheels click and whiz and whirr in the dark. Hands chase each other around in a never-ending, never-varying succession of infinite labs, passing a dozen never-altering numerals over and over again. The ticking patient and constant in the dark, the steady sound of the unchanging unstoppable heartbeat of the manmade universe, giving it shape and forcing upon it the limitation of following a path that will only ever allow one direction.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

_You look at me, as if you can read my thoughts; it makes me wonder how good of a Legimens you are. It feels like there is a connection, like your soul makes up part of mine.  
Every time I look at you, I can see you getting weaker but I don’t dare tell you, because I am afraid you’ll think it will mean I have given up on you. I think you know that the end is close. I can tell from the look in your eyes, from that calm smile of yours. My sight is slowly dimming every day. I stare at you, committing what I can to memory, making sure I don’t forget a thing, even the sadness and the pain, even the seizures that wrack your body as I try to hold you still. You whisper my name between taking gasps of rasping breath. It sounds like the end and still it’s music to my ears, because it means I’ll have you with me a little while longer. The oppressing quiet between your periods of wakefulness is what I cannot seem to bear, because I never know whether it will end and you’ll return to me or whether it’ll be your last. The time you spend sleeping gets longer and longer and it terrifies me. _

_I desperately want to tell you that I love you. I try to tell you with every touch, with every gentle caress and every kiss and I hope you understand me anyway. I wanted to tell you that day they came for it but I never got the chance, now I don’t dare tell you because it might seem like I am not saying it because I mean it, but because I’m saying goodbye._

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

It is dark and cold, broken pieces of furniture are piled in all four corners of the room; the only source of illumination a few stray strands of dirty sunlight filtering in through what remains of the mostly boarded up windows. Looking around, it becomes apparent, that this has once been the showroom of a shop. Whatever the shop’s owner had chosen to proudly display here in the past is now indiscernible. Overturned display tables with broken and scorched legs are coated in a thick layer of dust, soot and grit that has not been disturbed in what seems like centuries. The blackened legs of a broken toppled-over armchair reach toward the mostly intact ceiling like the soot-covered four-fingered hand of a giant.

Thick flecks of decade old dust dances through the sickly yellow strands of sunlight as two tall figures carefully navigate their way through the musty room, stirring up more dust with every cautious step. A clearly visible trail of footprints leads from where they have entered the room through a side door to their current location.

“What do you suppose happened here?”

“I have no idea, but it would go a long way to explain what happened to everything else.”

“How is it possible that this house is the only one left standing? Every other building for miles has been reduced to a mount of rubble and ash, yet this shop seems almost entirely unaffected.”

“I wouldn’t say entirely unaffected Harry, look at it! It’s a wonder the roof hasn’t collapsed and buried this place under it. Everything is covered in dust and soot.” Draco says while drawing a finger over one of the shelves that for some reason are still standing. The finger comes away with an unusually sticky coat of grey dust on it. Looking for something to wipe his finger on, he continues, “it would appear the only thing holding this place together is the mould on the walls.”  
Finally acknowledging that the only non-mouldy thing he can wipe his hand on are his robes and not in a million years is that an option, thank you very much, Draco draws his wand and casts a quick Scourgify on his hand.  
The ground begins to shake and plaster dust start to rain from the ceiling. He can feel Harry’s hand gripping his forearm tightly.

“Draco, what did you do?”

“Nothing, I just cleaned my hand.”

“I don’t think we should use magic in here, it doesn’t seem to be safe.” Harry says, worry evident in his voice, eyeing the slowly darkening shadows.

“Well, you could have offered your cloak to clean my hand on…” Draco replies but falls silent immediately when they hear a noise coming from the back of the shop. Unnoticed by either of them darkness creeps from the corners of the room towards Draco’s wand hand like molasses.

“Did you hear that?” Harry’s whisper sounds harsh and loud in the quiet room. Instead of shushing him, Draco puts his finger on his lips and motions for Harry to follow him.  
Harry however shakes his head and quickly writes something into the thick coat of dust at their feet. _Do you think they followed us inside?_ Draco shrugs, it is entirely possible. Even this fleeting reminder of what could have been the source of the noise makes his skin crawl. As Harry begins to draw his wand, Draco shakes his head furiously, pointing at a small fresh pile of plaster dust to their right emphatically. “No magic” he mouths and arms himself with an old table leg instead. Harry follows suit and they slowly creep towards where they have heard the noise the first time. The darkness does not follow them.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

The bell jingled, its sound merry, as the door to the shop opened slowly, admitting a tall and handsome man who looked at the items displayed around him in wonder, as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark interior.  
Draco had not known that Diagon Alley housed a shop like this, but then he had never really thought about where one could get a time piece fixed either. When his eyes had finally adjusted to the dim light inside the shop, he could see that the walls were covered in clocks of all shapes and sizes, all of them in constant motion. Others were suspended from the wooden ceiling beams and a few just seemed to float. Some of the devices like those on the wall were obviously clocks, with hour hands and minute hands as well something that passed for a clock face, the ones suspended from the ceiling however reminded Draco more of images he had seen of the Time Turners that had been destroyed during the war. Draco simply assumed that all of them were used to somehow tell the time. He ducked under the ever moving contraptions that floated towards him and slowly made his way to the deserted counter at the back of the room.  
An old till proudly stood on top of the cluttered counter seemingly taking up more than half of the space. It must have been a Muggle invention, because Draco had never seen one outside of catching a glimpse in his son’s Muggle studies text book. Not that he took much of an interest aside from making sure his son’s grades were acceptable. The keys and the lever looked well-used and ancient, the shop’s owner clearly had a fondness for odd things. Draco hoped that love extended to the repair of his slightly odd pocket watch. Scorpius had brought it in for repair two weeks ago and the slip he had handed his father had clearly stated the repaired watch would be ready to be picked up today.

“Hello?” Draco asked, curious where the shop owner might be, he definitely must have heard the sound of the bell, the shop was not that big.

“Come on through. I’ll be right with you.” A voice called from behind what Draco now saw was a dark curtain to his right, obscuring the entrance to a second room.

He gave the curtain a quick once-over but as it appeared to be clean, he parted the fabric and stepped into a room that was not lit much brighter than the shop itself. The entire room was filled with clock parts in all shapes and sizes, some cogs and wheels were bigger than Draco’s head and he briefly wondered, what kind of clocks they were intended for.  
In the very centre stood a workbench, a bright magical globe floating over it, shedding light on a figure, who was currently bent down low over the table. The man waved a hand at Draco in an inscrutable fashion and then added, “have a seat,” without once raising his head or even glancing in Draco’s direction.  
Draco looked around himself in puzzlement. It was not long before he could make out what must have been an old sofa in the corner of the room. It too was covered in pieces of clockwork, but there appeared to be just enough room for one person to sit down. Making sure the sofa was not covered in anything that would ruin his cloak, Draco carefully lowered himself onto it. It was more comfortable than it had looked; apparently the cushioning charm had not entirely worn off during its presumably long and eventful life.  
Time ticked by slowly, its progress recorded by more than a dozen synchronized time pieces at once. The constant noise was beginning to annoy Draco. Why did the man have to ask him to wait here of all places, he could have come back later.  
Trying to relieve his boredom, he studied the man who was still completely focussed on his work. The watchmaker was tall and not unpleasantly looking, his arms were surprisingly muscular for someone employed in a pastime that asked for such delicate movement.  
The man’s hands were rather large and looked too callused to always have been the hands of a watchmaker. Although, who knew, maybe watch-making was more like manual labour than Draco had anticipated. His eyes wandered slowly upwards, following the curve of the mans jaw, coming to rest on a shock of messy black hair that was held back by one of the weirdest contraptions Draco had ever seen. It was something that looked like a pair of miniature telescopes attached to a headband of some description, most likely it contained layer upon layer of magnifying lenses.  
When the figure finally looked up and focussed on Draco, he felt like he was being perused by a steam-powered metal snail. It was a disconcerting experience, because the other man could probably see him quite clearly, while Draco could not even make out his features properly. He was grateful when the hand that had only moments ago been working with, what he could now see were the inner workings of a clock came up and pulled the magnifying goggles over his head, revealing a pair of circular glasses and the intense still slightly magnified gaze of a pair of familiar green eyes directed at him.  
“Malfoy! I was right then, it was your watch!” The man said jovially. He cleaned his hands on an already dirty piece of cloth and advanced on Draco hand outstretched in greeting. Draco could not believe his eyes.

“Potter.” Draco did not manage to hide his surprise at Potter’s obviously changed attitude towards him. He rose from the sofa and shook the man’s hand. “My son brought it in for repair last time he went shopping for school supplies. I didn’t even know we had a watchmaker in Diagon Alley.” _Or that it would be you for that matter_ , his treacherous thoughts added. The boy he remembered from his school days should not have been entrusted with carrying a raw egg across a room, let alone mess around with the insides of something as fragile as a watch. That very same boy would not have so freely shaken his hand in greeting either. Potter apparently had changed and not only in temperament if Draco was honest with himself, he had grown up rather fine as well.

“I thought he looked familiar. He looks like you did when we were at Hogwarts together.” Potter winked at him. Harry bloody Potter had actually just winked at him, Draco could not quite believe what was happening. Maybe he had fallen asleep to the constant ticking around him and this was just a bizarre dream caused by who knows what, maybe the French cheese he had had earlier. The last time he had seen Potter was when he had shown up at the Manor to give Draco back his wand, the very wand that at this moment was nestled into the folds of Draco’s robes.

“Oh come now Malfoy, don’t look so shocked! Despite what you might think, I am not taking the piss.” When Draco still did not manage to supply Potter with an answer the other man sighed, shook his head in resignation and walked back to his work bench. “Your son said that your pocket watch wasn’t working properly anymore, he suspected some of the charms had worn off. In fact some of the cogs were so worn down I had to replace them as well as the charms, it should run smoothly now and I’ve allowed myself to add a few charms to the ones already in place. Come on, have a look, I’ll show you.”

Draco took a few steps forward and watched as Potter summoned the bright glowing sphere from over his workplace to float closer and reduce in size.

“See here, I added a rewinding charm, this way you won’t need to wind the watch by hand anymore. I put a stasis charm on the cogs and springs to make sure they don’t wear down again like they did before; the crystal cover has a permanent polishing charm on it and the lid an additional identity charm, which means that if the watch ever gets stolen, they won’t be able to use it and you can trace it. All I need you to do is put your thumb on the lid right here and you’ll be the only one who’ll be able to open it in the future.”

Draco was impressed despite himself. He found himself leaning over, studying his watch with interest and leaning quite close to Potter. He reached out and touched the lid where Potter had indicated, his heart racing and his hand shaking as he accidentally brushed against Potter’s warm skin. Potter grabbed Draco’s hand and the watch and cast a quick spell on them, making Draco’s skin tingled and feel like he had been burned where Potter touched him, even after his hand had been released.

“Right, that’s all set then, shall I ring this up for you?” Potter asked, seemingly unfazed by what had just happened.

“Alright.” Draco was proud of how normal his voice sounded. He followed Potter into the salesroom, watched him ring up his purchase and paid him without a second thought.

“It was nice seeing you Malfoy! Let me know if there are any problems with the watch.” Potter said smiling at Draco.

“It was nice seeing you too Potter, and I definitely will let you know. Have a nice day.” With that he turned and walked out of the shop, not waiting for Potter’s reply.

Outside in the bright and warmth of a splendid summer’s day, the only thing that reassured him his encounter had been real was the comforting weight of his pocket watch settled in its rightful place in his waistcoat.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

The next time Draco saw Potter was only a few days later. Pansy had _invited_ him to join her for her show opening that Saturday night. And by invited he meant that she had hinted at using the thumb screw spell she had discovered in an old book in her grandmother’s attic on his balls if he did not show.

He picked her up at her flat and they apparated to the gallery together. Pansy was wearing one of her delicate handmade black lace masks that hid half her face. Draco wanted to tell her that it made her look like a female version of the Phantom of the Opera, but he deep down he understood her need to hide just too well. That curse attack that had disfigured half her face had never been resolved. It had just become another name on a long list of anti-Slytherin hate crime victims. When it became apparent that the Ministry for Magic was not even investigating those crimes properly, there had finally been an outcry. Despite most attackers never having been caught, the victims received compensation because of judiciary negligence.  
Pansy had taken that money and bought a studio at the edge of the city’s warehouse district, where she had begun to try and find a way to deal with what had happened to her.  
As they entered the gallery, Draco could see her newest pieces already gathering interest. There were a few sculptures made of different materials, like bronze, marble or clay and several paintings in different sizes on the walls. All the figures depicted were extremely delicate and looked flawless unless one leant in closer, then it became apparent that every single image was changing over time, as a slowly decaying stasis charm released liquids that ate away at the perfection. Before the figures were entirely consumed the art returned to its previous state. Subtlety was certainly not one of Pansy’s failures.

As Draco walked around the exhibition while Pansy kissed her fans hello, he took the time to listen to the quiet chatter around him, sipping from a champagne flute he had grabbed from a passing waiter. Nobody seemed sure what Pansy had intended to display with her art, most of them leaning towards Pansy making visible human fragility in the face of time. She had been lucky that despite the severity of the attack, her name had never made the paper and since she had become an artist everyone just imagined the mask was part of her persona.  
The general consensus seemed to be that the exhibition was outstanding and that most of the art had already been sold before its opening night had properly begun. Draco would know, he himself had lain claim to a small pixie-esque figure that was no larger than the span of his hand. As the stasis charm degraded, her delicate wings became skeletal until they completely melted away, the substance eating away at her chest, leaving ugly gashes until the spell reset. As the process started again, her filigreed frozen movement turned into a twist of agony as her wings melted away and her torso was destroyed. Draco had been fascinated by the sculpture from the first moment he had lain eyes on it. How the figure changed over time had rung true with something inside of him and he had made Pansy promise that she would sell it only to him.

Draco made is way over to the small figure and smiled when he saw the red dot next to the plaque listing, date of completion, material and provenance. As he leaned closer to inspect the figure once more someone bumped into him and almost made him drop his drink. Draco felt himself fall forward into the sculpture and could already see it smash in front of his inner eye, when someone grabbed his robe and yanked him backwards into a warm and hard chest. When Draco turned around, the first thing he saw was a big frizzy head of hair and it took a moment for him to realise that it was because Hermione Granger was standing beside Potter who was still holding onto him.

“Sorry,” Potter said, letting go of Draco and pulling his cloak to right, his broad hands slowly flattening the wrinkles his tight grip had caused. Instead of pushing him away, Draco was mesmerised by the motion. Who would have thought that Potter was hiding such a toned chest under all those layers of slightly too large clothes he usually wore. Especially since it had been eight years since Potter had been fired by the Ministry for Magic and those years in between, when he had somehow become a watch maker could not have helped with that. Unless, he had kept up the Ministry mandated fitness regime in hopes of being allowed back in. Draco had tried to read up on what had happened with Potter after their last encounter but had not been able to find out much more than that Potter used to be an Auror and now he was not.  
Someone nearby cleared their throat and Draco realised we was staring, staring at Potter, who still had his hands on Draco’s lapels but was withdrawing them quickly at the noise. Potter was grinning at him, as if he knew what Draco had been thinking about.  
Draco straightened and turned to Granger, offering his hand to shake, which she took after hesitating shortly.  
“Hello Granger, long time no see. I read life has been treating you well, head of your own research department and everything,” Draco said, completely ignoring Potter, who only grinned harder at that.  
“Malfoy, I should’ve expected to find you here,” Granger said.  
“Seeing as Pansy sent me this weeks in advance,” Draco said, holding up a small card that had “Draco Malfoy, guest of honour” written on it, “you were right to expect me. What brings you both here on the other hand remains a total mystery.”

Draco could see that Potter was trying and failing to suppress his mirth, as he handed Draco a similar card only on it, it said “Harry Potter, VIP”.

“Cheeky vixen,” Draco burst out. Potter was outright laughing at him now and grabbing two glasses from a passing waiter before handing one to Draco to his unending surprise. Granger and Potter seemed to share a conversation that mostly involved eyebrows, at the end of which Granger sighed and left.

“So,” Potter said before strangely enough grabbing Draco’s elbow and turning him back to the sculpture Draco had admired earlier, “what is it about this piece that got your attention?”

Draco wanted to say that it was because he had bought it, but ended up telling the truth instead. “I can empathise, you know?” Potter looked at him questioningly.

“I know it sounds cliché, but I can empathise with having your wings clipped, with your whole self getting slashed open and crumbling away. What’s more, I know what it’s like to feel all that and look perfectly unaffected from the outside. Not all scars are physical.” Draco lowered his gaze and subconsciously rubbed across his chest, where could still feel a phantom twinge.

When he finally felt up to facing Potter again, he was surprised the man looked so crest-fallen.

“M-Draco, I’m so sor-,” he began to say, reaching for Draco’s chest as if to touch him again. Draco easily twisted out of his reach.

“Don’t concern your pretty head with it, Potter. The past is in the past.”

Potter looked almost hurt at Draco’s refusal to accept or even acknowledge his apology. Draco himself was not entirely sure why he did not want it, only knowing that right now it hit entirely too close to home. He pasted on a fake smile and knocked his shoulder into Potter’s.

“The war is over, remember? There were quite a few headlines on the topic, if I remember correctly, several featuring you quite prominently.”

It was meant as a joke, Potter seemed to be able to tell and yet his face shuttered, the easiness from earlier gone. Then Draco remembered, Potter had been everybody’s darling for quite a while there. That is until it became public knowledge that Voldemort’s power had somehow contaminated Potter’s magic and he suddenly was considered a danger to society not fit to serve as an Auror anymore. Potter had disappeared from the public eye after that. Until Draco had found him in his little shop, he had not even known Potter was still in England. Draco for some reason had always assumed someone as overly dramatic as Potter would have become a hermit somewhere like Iceland or something.

Potter was turning away from him and as much as that surprised even himself, Draco did not want it to end like this. Before they had got on the wrong track, he had actually had fun for the first time in ages. This time it was him that took Potter’s elbow and steered him towards where he wanted him to go.

“You know what’s the upside of pretentious shit like this vernissage?”

Potter shook his head.

“It’s got something you and I are very much in need of right now,” he paused and grinned before continuing, “an open bar.”

In the end the only reason they were not kicked out of the gallery was their status as friends of Pansy and Granger. Draco and Potter stumbled along the road towards who knew where but Draco did not mind one bit. For once he felt like that heavy feeling that was weighing him down from the moment he opened his eyes to the second he closed them at night had finally been lifted. Part of it was that maybe for once he did not have to be nice or even pretend to be. Potter already knew who he was and had made up his mind about Draco years ago. And still they were both here, neither of them in a hurry to get away.

They ended up on a jetty jutting into the river Thames. Potter was about to take his shoes and socks off to stick his feet into the water, but Draco stopped him.

“Really, Potter? You don’t know where that water’s been, are you sure you want to stick your feet in that?”

“Yes, I’m very sure. And so are you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, because you are just as sick as I am, of always doing the responsible thing.”

Draco found he agreed, but instead of telling Potter he was right, Draco simply took off his shoes, folded his socks and carefully stashed them in his footwear, before helping Potter to do the same.

The water was cold and pleasant against his skin and the sound of rushing of the river as it passed by them, was comforting.

Potter sat much closer than Draco had anticipated. He could feel their shoulders brush against each other as they both swayed slightly, uncoordinated from the alcohol. Eventually Potter conjured a cushion big enough for both of them and lay down. After a while Draco followed his example.

Despite the light pollution one or two stars peaked through the changing cloud cover. It made Draco feel small to think about the vastness of the universe. How could a single person be even remotely important in the larger scheme of things? And yet, without Potter everyone’s lives on this planet might have changed for the worst. He had saved all of them and still most of them would never know.

“Do you know what I miss the most?” Potter asked.

Draco shook his head.

“I miss being allowed to not knowing the answer to things.”

“How do you mean?”

“It’s like, wherever I go, whatever I do, people expect me to be in charge, want me to tell them what to do. What they don’t get is, that I would never have survived without Hermione and Ron, without McGonagall or Neville or even Dumbledore.”

He turned towards Draco.

“Without you,” he paused again. “They don’t understand that we almost didn’t win, that it took people from the other side to help us win. They don’t understand what price we had to pay to get here. We all lost someone we love. And I have lost so many people, Draco. I can’t bear the thought of losing anyone else.”

Potter’s voice sounded scratchy and small, full of untold emotions. Draco silently took Potter’s hand and entwined their fingers, the darkness making everything easier, allowing honesty and compassion where daylight would not. He knew what some of it was like. Potter had not become a hero because he wanted to, but because he had to. Draco understood that now.

“Sometimes I wish I could exchange my life for all of their suffering. Maybe things would have been better if I’d died with my parents.”

Draco squeezed Potter’s hand at that.

“I’m not going to tell you not to say that. The idea has crossed both our minds probably more than once, but aside from actual time travel being impossible, let me tell you one thing. I’m better for having known you, for you challenging me. We are all better, for you being in this world. You might not feel it, but without you people like Granger would have been locked up, their magic taken away or worse. The Weasleys, whom you still like for some reason-“ Potter snorted and elbowed him at that, “they wouldn’t be alive and who knows if Hogwarts would even still stand, if London would, or the world. We might all just be tiny cogs and wheels in what passes as destiny in this place, but without you the life we would have had wouldn’t have been worth living. As much as my younger egotistical self might have liked to become proper royalty, I’m glad I’m not. Sometimes when people spit at me or shout abuse in the street I’m actually happy they still get to do that. Sure it’s vile and hurtful, but what kind of world would we live in, if disagreeing with someone meant torture or death.”

They both fell silent for a while. Potter was the first who spoke.

“I believe you,” he finally said.

Much later they watched the sun rise together, the conversation having sobered them both up. After all they had shared in the safety of the night neither could seem to find the right words afterwards when it became time to leave and go back to what passed for reality.

In the end Harry silently squeezed Draco’s hand before letting go and apparating away. It was Draco’s turn soon after, having vanished the cushion and having straightened his clothes he went home, his hand still tingling from Potter’s touch.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

It took almost a week for Draco to build up the courage to contact Potter after the night they had spent together. He was not sure if what they had shared would translate into being a good idea in the daylight, but after going back and forth on it for a while he decided that it might be worth trying.

He had not spoken to Pansy at all since the night at the gallery, but his purchase had arrived the day before and had already been awarded the prime spot by the window in his office. 

He was currently staring at the small sculpture as it went through its endless cycle, trying to find the right words to get Potter to meet up with him again, but they would not come. Draco just was not Gryffindor enough to come right out and say that he wanted to spend more time with the _Boy Who Lived_. An idea struck and Draco smiled as he quickly scribbled a note, waved his owl Loki over and attached the missive to its leg. If Potter felt even the tiniest amount of the pull Draco felt towards him, Draco was quite sure this was going to work, the Sorting Hat had not put him in Slytherin for nothing. If he could not get what he wanted because of his lack of bravery, a bit subterfuge would have to do. The message he had sent out had started as follows: “Potter, I have a business proposition...”

When Loki did not return right away, Draco began to fidget and ended up fire-calling Pansy to pass the time. 

“So... is there a specific reason you’re calling me out of the blue?,” Pansy asked him, she was not wearing her mask today.

“I wanted to thank you for sending my purchase over and wanted to enquire after how the rest of your show went. Did you sell anything else?”

“A few items, working under an assumed name really helped with the international sales.”

“I’m glad to hear it, you deserve it. How long do you think Scorpius will be working on your inventory? I might have plans to go out later and I want him home before then.”

Pansy got up and walked over to the door, leaned out and called something Draco could not quite catch. When she returned a moment later, she smiled.

“Shouldn’t be too long now, he said he’s almost finished.” She winked at Draco, “he’d better be, my muse is scheduled to come over later.”

Draco sputtered, “since when do you have a muse? Why didn’t I know this? Who is he?”

“You’re simply not privilege to knowing all of my business, Draco, Darling. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, lots of artists have muses. Only I treat mine better and don’t drive them insane. I like to enjoy mine as much as I can.”

Draco shuddered at the expression on her face. “Pansy, you’re right. I do not need to know more about your vagina.”

Suddenly Draco heard a strange noise and looked around, his range of vision impaired by the location of the fireplace.

“What was that noise? Is your boy toy coming over already, while you’ve got my underage son there with you?”

“What? No! I didn’t hear anything.” Pansy looked scandalised. They both listened intently, but no further sound was forthcoming.

“Listen Draco, I’ll send Scorpius…” Pansy began and then there was a loud crash further out on the house.

“What’s going on?” Draco asked, but Pansy had already run from the room. Draco assumed that Pansy was probably worried that Scorpius had accidentally tumbled over some of her work material, but Draco knew better. Scorpius was very meticulous in his work, just like his father. Time passed and was recorded by a huge dark grandfather clock opposite the fire place. After more than five minutes had passed, that probably meant that Pansy was being a bit of a Diva and his son getting yelled at for breaking something expensive that Draco would have to pay for, he wondered how long she was going to be. A quick glance over his shoulder at his own room showed that Loki still had not returned. With nothing better to do, Draco waited, his mood getting darker with every second that ticked by.

When he was close to just leaving a note asking for Scorpius to return as soon as he was finished, he heard a piercing scream coming from the rooms beyond his field of vision. Draco’s heart raced as he threw himself out of the fireplace and into Pansy’s parlour. He hit the ground running, his wand drawn. He knew that voice.

“Scorpius!” he shouted. His son’s voice had sounded like he was in pain. The noise could not be directly connected to the earlier crash he had heard, unless Scorpius had been trapped under something heavy that had only just been lifted.

When Draco reached the end of the landing, he turned left into the large warehouse area, where Pansy worked on her larger than life artwork. At first he could not see or hear anything out of the ordinary over the noise of his pounding heart and the blood rushing in his ears. Then he heard it, a wet wheezing noise coming from his left towards the centre of the room. Draco refrained from calling out again, worried that maybe he had been wrong and what had caused his son’s scream was not an accident.

When he turned the corner of a large set of shelves, he found Pansy lying on the floor in a pool of what looked like blood. Draco knelt beside her, quickly feeling for her pulse. Relief flooded through him, when he felt it thready but surely under his fingers. The blood he saw came from a head wound that had knocked her out. He carefully examined her skull, but it seemed like she had been lucky, the wound still bleeding sluggishly seemed to be responsible for the blood on the floor, but was not life-threatening. After he made sure that Pansy was ok, he got up again. He had to find his son. Only when he stood, did he see the footprints leading from the pool of blood around Pansy’s head and shoulders further into the warehouse. They were not human. Draco could feel his own blood run cold, when he realised what they meant.

Draco was painfully aware that he was his son’s only chance at getting out of this alive. It took all of his control to not call for him again. The creature that had obviously attacked Pansy probably already knew he was here and that he was afraid. He realised there was only one thing he could do, if he wanted to make sure that his son survived, if it was not too late already. 

Draco quickly cast a spell. Then he carefully lowered the anti-apparition wards Pansy had installed to feel safer, which had done nothing to keep this creature out. Then he straightened up, gripped his wand tightly and followed the footsteps deeper into the stacks.

**Author's Note:**

> A few pointers for those of you who need the warnings ahead of starting this WIP:  
> \- The main pairing is the only one that will get any explicit content of a sexual nature,  
> \- other activities between other consenting adults might be implied  
> \- This fic will turn pretty dark for a while, due to the apocalyptic nature and will contain major character death (this is a time-travel fic though, feel free to make of that what you will  
> \- due to the nature of this fic, the story will not always be told in chronological order. There are three general strands being told somewhat parallel.


End file.
